My Petition
by J-Nynja
Summary: In the darkest hour, trapped in desolation, desperation and despair, each calls to his deliverer. Seven members of the Cullen family present seven petitions from seven stories. Canon. Rated T for slightly dark themes.
1. Preface

PREFACE

In the middle of night, evil spirits roam the earth. Steadily busy through the darkest hours, they press past humanity's meager obstructions, stealing reason, and leaving doom and destruction in their wake.

Their sultry voices bear false promises of relief for those who suffer life's afflictions. And for the greedy man, their lying tongues vow worldly riches. Masterfully, they set their snares in eternal vigilance for a weakened heart!

Whispering echoes of sin hurdle off stone walls on which iniquitous ghouls dance merrily. Perhaps they prance in jubilation, or in haste to invoke their ghastly intentions in the deathly quiet.

Fearfully, man, born mortal or not, huddles in mock slumber. Breathless and still, he fervently wills the morning light make its appearance. His offspring, emulating his gesture, tightly shuts innocent eyes from fear of the sight he might happen upon in disobedience

In the middle of night, hope shines like a lighthouse to a lost sailor. Far and beyond the reach of the gloom-filled earth, it lights the way to a distinct path.

And, when from the clutches of darkness one escaped, it knew. When on his knees a desperate man cried, "Please, hear my petition!" it heard.


	2. Esme

_For Mary Ann, of blessed memory._

_~*.*~_

_This fan fiction story is dedicated to everyone who has been through the darkest night and made it safely to the other side somehow. May we all find hope in our hour of despair and peace at the breaking of dawn._

~*.*~

_And as always, to my fantastic editor and friend, __**findthewill **__– who is a genius and saint._

___'_

**CHAPTER ONE :**_**ESME**_

'

By all accounts, today was not a good day to die.

In the distance, storm clouds gathered, growling angrily and threatening vindictive fury from their laden depths. Progressing slowly, their ever thickening mass forewarned a sound beating over every hindrance along their assiduous course. And there, in that condemning path, was where I stood trembling.

Trying to brace my nerves against the looming and ominous forces in yonder had proven futile. I could not be without fear or the dreaded sense of alarm taking root in my racing heart. _Deep breaths, Esme. Try to count slowly now,_ the usual recitation to calm myself in such times reached the tip of my tongue. Yet, it was pure anguish to breathe at all.

With each shakily drawn wheeze came the feeling of distinct agony searing within my barren chest. The king of all foreboding dripped purified acid in my belly, igniting the vacant core in flames. Unable to assuage any of my unease, even by the thin draft of cold that suddenly charged my ill clothed body, or by the promise of respite that lay beneath my feet, I fought desperately for an alternative to grasp my senses once more.

Pulling the edges of my feeble cotton frock tightly around my frame for support, I drew in a long shaky breath and stepped forward. Certainly, like the approaching deluge swiftly seizing Ashland, I too had a task to be done and over with - and the sooner it was accomplished, the better it seemed. I lifted my head higher, squinting toward the thinning rays of light streaming through rare gaps in the formation of the dark clouds. Their menacing intent was obvious as they swirled, contorting regularly into sharp images of horror.

Sometimes, impressions of pained faces fleeted across the burdened sky. As though in great sorrow and distress, they imprinted their woeful masks on the dark canvas above, warning those who travel where they once trod. At other times, forms shaped from the very bowels of the earth appeared over the surface of the clouds. Some were so fearsome and horrendous - evil manifestations with horns and pitchforks.

I shrank back a step, cowering at the sudden sight of two flaming eyes atop the shifting rain bearers. Like a demon, their scarlet cavities were mirthless as they pierced their stare on me. Though fleeting, their terrifying depths lingered, seeming to hold promise, and saying in slandering echoes, "Soon, you will join us, too."

Swaying uncomfortably for a moment, I broke my transfixed gaze from the persistent taunting before me. _Be gone, I will not yield to these lies,_ I decided, pleading strength to my bones to continue my planned duty. Whispering encouraging words beneath my breath, I took another step to prove I was undeterred by their inane perils. _Esme, you can do this._

Shutting my eyes was probably not the brightest idea. For then, my torments began in earnest, spilling frightening colors behind my shut lids.

Meaningless at first, the colors gradually took shape, turning into distressing but oddly familiar scenes. First, a man standing before a large mantel with a dribble of blood staining his right hand spoke deadly plans quietly into the void. His presence disturbed me greatly, but for what reason I was unsure. An angry scowl marred his once handsome features as he looked down with contempt.

His quarry was invisible to me, I could not decipher who he held such hate for or what his words meant. Instinctively though, I knew I had to run from his unsettling presence. Yet, I felt cast down by an imperceptible weight, pulling me back to the ground with every rise I struggled to make.

My legs refused to budge beneath me, growing lethargic on the smooth ground where I lay in this strange vision. _I have to go! Please, my baby needs me! _I pleaded with the unflinching man, suddenly recalling the thrust of my urgency.

I could hear my child cry high and loud in the midst of the swarming shades, summoning me from the depths of this abyss in which I found myself. His shrill screams grew weaker when the scene metamorphosed again, silencing totally when I finally emerged from the perplexing haze.

This time I stood beside a cradle, in which lay the most beautiful child. Deep in sleep, a small smile curved around his perfect pink lips, accentuating the curve of his rosy cheeks and perfect features. I reached out slowly to stroke his small face when his loud cry suddenly broke through my silent admiration.

Suddenly frantic, I quickly lifted him to cuddle against my chest, humming a tune fringed with acute disquiet as I tried to calm him down. My tearless sobs echoed from a place faraway in the present, reaching my anxious mind from the edge of this dream. My greatest nightmares, clawing and ripping, had taken hold of the daunting images burned into my mind forever.

I strived to rise from the debilitating trance, seeking freedom from its crippling hold, but it was to no avail. My heart launched into a sprint, tearing from the binds holding it firmly in my chest split after torturous split. Its cadence hammered in my ears, pounding the weight of my misery into my barely functioning brain.

The ruckus grew louder, gaining momentum with every passing second. Trying to cover my ears against the cacophony in my head, or to open my eyes to the reassurance of daylight, proved futile - my escape was very far from me.

I yearned for the light. Reaching out, I mindlessly scrambled for my reprieve from the hellish forces until my eyes suddenly flew open on a silent scream. Doubling over the sharp pain of reawakening, forbidden memories knifing through my shattering heart, I placed a hand over my breast to calm the ache. To a heap above the flat plains atop the cliffs, I crumbled, sucked in a sharp breath and willed the last vestige of my being be replaced.

Of course, there was not such to be. I had lost the art of living to the plundering ways of the reaper. Where he had not sown, he had come to steal the life of an innocent child.

"Oh Lord, why?!" another soundless scream scratched through my throat, ending in unintelligible gurgle. Streams of unshed tears washed over my face from the well that had accrued over the days I had carefully laid out my plans. To have given in then would have been a sure sign of doubt, and doubt was not a sentiment I had been willing to entertain.

Yet, my faithless heart soared when I glimpsed the lightning bolts shooting across the afternoon sky. Through my hazy vision, I saw hope heading my way and quickly scrambled to my feet. Did they not say a stroke of lightning was the surest way to die? I pursed my lips and willed my nerves stay still. Determinedly, I stood my ground and awaited my obvious fate.

As though privy to my thoughts, the flat grassy plot beneath my bare feet quivered slightly in barely restrained anger - presumably disgusted by my intention to lay abomination upon its sacred soil. Resembling the persecuting mass above, it too was obviously eager to dislodge its scandalous burden.

All my life I had been burdened in my relations. Where I had hoped to experience joy, mother had steadily implanted the more necessary duties of attending to the needs of my father and brothers. Insisting the proper place for a woman was in the home; where we scrubbed and washed till my hands grew raw. While my brothers frolicked in the vast meadows encroaching our yard from the forest behind, she ensured I stayed put by our old wood basin beating our worn clothes clean.

"But I want to play with my brothers," I had complained, earning a sharp slap to my forearm and a warning not to talk of such unladylike desires.

"No more playing with boys, Esme. They are nothing but trouble, if that wound on your leg is anything to go by."

Discreetly, when my chores were done, I had raised my skirt to glimpse the thin scar running between my knee and calf. The once gaping wound had healed nicely, leaving the nearly invisible scar in its place now. Smiling to myself, I reached and traced the thin white line slowly.

I could almost feel his cool hands again. Even in the chilling mist swelling beneath my skirts and around my bare legs, I could remember the young doctor's loving touch gripping the wounded limb gently. Enveloped in the darkened shroud now, memories of his golden eyes, lighting up my world when he raised his head to look at my face, rushed to my mind.

A hint of a smile had shadowed the edges of his whitened lips, wrinkling the sides slightly on his smooth face. I had wanted to even the lines there, lifting my hands impulsively toward him. Belatedly recognizing my near blunder, I passed my fingers through my hair to draw the curly mass away as I smiled.

It was little Lily who encouraged me to pray after I had told her about the fetching doctor. That evening, she had knelt on the soft ground behind our barn and pulled me clumsily to my knees, still giggling with heady excitement from our conversation about the pale-haired physician.

"Emilie said if I prayed to God, He would bring a gentleman to call on me when the time comes around," my companion had confided, relating her elder sister's encouragement with a wide smile. "Come Esme, maybe God will bring the doctor to consider taking you for a wife, too," her eyes lighting up to mirror my sudden happiness.

Eager for that miracle, we had prayed while I imagined the lean tall man who had tended my injuries barely a week before. Waiting day after day for the kind and handsome doctor to ride up the dust road to the front of the house on his white steed had brought me more trouble.

Every suitor I turned away caused my father's displeasure to mount. Furious when I turned two and twenty without a spouse, he laid the law that I was not to reject Mr. Evenson's request the day he called on the family in his shiny new automobile.

Again, I had prayed while kneeling on the ground, facing the window, looking through at the steeple about a mile away. Calling to God, I sobbed in my request, my heart filled with sorrow at my inevitable state of affairs. There was little doubt now; I was to become a wife like mother, stuck in misery till the end of time.

Like the tears that marked my wedding day, I wept night after night after the deed was done. Charles had lain sated from the night's exertions, unworried about the pain he had drawn to me by his unkind possession of my inexperienced body.

Had his cruelty been momentary, I could have forgiven him his shortcomings, but that was not to be. Eager to do right, I conducted myself as mother had taught me, offering total obedience in my behavior towards my husband. Dutifully, I paid him complete mind in all his orders. Doing as was told me, and straining daily to avoid displeasing him. Fruitless as may be, I persisted in my surrender, unwilling to encounter his usual and violent displeasure.

Then, Charles had returned a beast after he was hastily discharge from the war. No longer satisfied with constant servitude, he called for my attentions every night once his healing had been complete. Like an animal to the slaughter, I had responded whenever he beckoned, remembering my mother's final advice.

"Always obey your husband," she had cautioned, "and let him find relief from the tenderness of your body when the night comes."

Unschooled in any other way, I had taken his painful ramming with nary a word. Careful not to limp as I left his presence, I would firm my jaw and narrow my eyes in focus till I reached the door to my momentary liberty. Still, my sacrifices had not been enough to soothe his pride.

Deformed by the ravages of war, he now depended on a walking stick for movement. While he had held his head up among his peers before, boasting of his wealth and bravery, now he seldom spoke for he had been rendered voiceless by his current form and poverty.

Gradually, stealing past him no longer satisfied his wounded ego, so he took to beating me to unconsciousness. Twice, I had barely survived his attacks, breathing shallowly to hold my soul and body together.

Twice after those episodes, I had cried to God when my family turned me away from the safety of my childhood home. Pleading for His divine audience, I wept bitterly, careful to keep my voice a murmur lest I incur Charles's intolerant wrath. Yet, all my begging had fallen on deaf ears. Like a bothersome child, my woes had been pushed aside, never to be addressed.

In fact, God's unspeaking voice had been buttressed in my father's outraged and disbelieving look when I'd finally spoken my troubles to him.

"Go back to your home," he had insisted, looking pointedly at my mother's stoic face to ensure I understood not to bring shame upon the family. He issued his remaining orders then, in a voice no louder than a whisper, and expecting to be fully understood in his authority as the head of the house without opposition. "You must do as you're told and not anger your husband anymore, do you understand?"

"But Papa…" I had begun, swiftly interrupted by my mother's cold voice silencing me.

"Hush up!" she had shot out, wearing an impassive expression as she spoke her own command. Assuring my father that his orders would be followed explicitly, she turned to usher me out of our home. Her words at the door made my heart sink. "You will not return bearing such shameful news again," she had warned. "Stay with your husband as his rightful wife and do not cause trouble." Without a mere goodbye, she'd turned away and shut the door in my face.

With a heavy heart, I had left the white house at the edge of the forest, reluctantly returning to my tortured existence. Steadily, communication between my family and I dwindled to naught. Eventually, a year passed and I had not heard from my brothers or parents.

Thus, I was utterly alone when I finally found the courage to run from the deathly grip Charles wielded over me. A babe was due, and as my attempt to conceal my morning routine was rapidly turning against me, I had carefully planned my escape from the manor of doom.

After the despicable fool had dared to lay his hands upon me for causing him discomfort from my loud heaving, I set my plan in motion, lacing his meal with the potion I acquired from the dreaded gypsy living near the millinery. Her assurance had proven true, causing Charles to slump in his seat at that unusual hour.

Shortly after my arrival in Ashland, Mary became the olive branch to which I clung. Listening carefully, and drawing me into her warm embrace at the end of my tale, her understanding and utter acceptance of my delicate condition soon became my safety net. Framing her childlike face, bright red curls tumbled in a long mass past her shoulders, highlighted by rose-pink cheeks and plump red lips. Her blue green eyes were always smiling in encouragement, bestowing on me a fort in which to hide my insecurities.

However, my happiness soon turned short lived when the news of Mary's untimely demise reached me. On a cold night in Ashland, the entire township was thrown into frenzy at the brutal murder of the young woman. While some of the townsfolk blamed the unfortunate incident on a crazed hoodlum, I had seen the situation for what it truly was.

Fate had dealt me a harsh reprisal for my sins afresh, ensuring I paid for them dearly and fully. Scant as my follies might have seemed, there was no denying that my disobedience to my mother's frantic calls, yearning to direct me along a more righteous path, had landed me the lot I now faced in life. Pregnant and alone in a strange town, I had passed my hand over my distended belly, noting my only hope came from the steadily growing child inside me.

Truly, mankind had no wisdom – of this I became firmly convinced. Had we been at all wise, we would not heed the untrue tales of places unknown to living beings, where there existed a deity called God. Had there been such a place, would the merciful God, whom the throng of Ashland's lay preachers pronounced, have yielded His precious creation to such a cruel hermitage as the earth?

It had not taken long to find the truth revealed to me. Cradling my little babe in one arm, I had raised a cry to the empty heavens for the last time. Beseeching divinity to have mercy on me and save my poor son, I lifted my free arm, turning red-rimmed eyes to the skies.

At my bosom, my son squirmed, and I held him closer. His tiny lips were still latched on my tender bosom to draw sustenance, but quickly abandoning when the milk provided no relief for his diseased body, he had stopped suckling, opting to cry out his agony in hushed moans - the loudest voice his tiny chest could expel.

Reaching my last resort, I had laid my dying boy in his cradle, tenderly tucking him in as I sank to my knees at his side. I wiped my teary eyes and fully focused on the task at hand. My prayer was whispered on the first try. In that moment, even breathy words had been hard to form around my dazed mind.

Though nearly all men found themselves in this position at some time in their lives, I had crouched and bent my face to the ground in desperation numerously in the past. Never, had I received an answer for my trials - not once.

This time however, though disinclined, my yearning for a miracle came from within the deepest recesses of my belly. Casting off my weariness, I adjusted my stance on the rough ground to steady myself and prepare. This time, I was determined to speak the words clearly. This time, unafraid to be caught in my moment of anxious pleading, I tilted my head to the leaking ceiling above. Speaking the words boldly, despite my weak and scratchy voice, longing to be heard, I cried, "Lord, please, hear my petition!"

"Please grant me my request," I prayed sorrowfully. Clearing my throat again, I spoke with more confidence, "Save my babe, I beg of You. If You are indeed the giver of life and father of all mankind, will you let death rip what is good from your beloved? There are non left but myself and this poor babe. Seldom in your graces, I am left at your mercy. Please, save his innocent life."

Faintly, the infant choked fitfully, coughing and wheezing on painful breaths. I hurried to his side, eager to see the good fruits of my heartfelt prayer manifested. My heart sank at the sight before me, nothing had changed. If anything, my handsome son's fate had turned for the worst.

Moaning in disappointment, I settled back on my heels and wrung the soft cloth lying in the metal water basin at our side. The cool towel only served as momentary relief. His once rosy cheeks drooped around his sad eyes. As though resigned to his fate, my son glanced at me once more and silently laid his head back to sleep.

By morning, my desperate prayer had been answered. Being wiser now, I pursed my lips to keep from wailing falsities to the rising sun. Numb from my ceaseless woes, I tried to ward the memories from that graying dawn away. The loud voice of a fearless man thronging the street below our humble lodgings carried on the rays of the morning light. He spoke of great miracles and of a saving grace, saying to any who heard him, "God will heal all your infirmities." How could he have spoken such words when there was no God?

Surfacing from my memories, I rose to stand tall at the edge of the daunting cliffs. All the elements quickly fell silent, recoiling at the depth of my newfound resolve. Mirrored in the deprived miles of oblivion stretched before me, of darkening skies and a seemingly calm lake, it was evident that divinity did not exist. Perhaps also, that life had no meaning to it – and no eternity.

We, foolish for thinking there ever was a way to realize our impossible reveries, simply existed for one motive only - to be cast off to the large void surrounding us. When our hearts finally succumbed to the tedious task set upon them, we were meant to be nothing but fodder for the cravings of the land on which we once stood.

I pursed my lips tightly at the thought of the plans I had nursed for nearly a week and looked down.

A thin tuft of white marked the borders of my focus. The cluster of sharply carved rocks jutting out of their soft bed on the smooth white sand at the lake's shore were my inevitable deathbed. Surely, this would be swift, efficient and possibly, even painless. Regardless, they were my chosen weapon for the grim task at hand, and I had no doubt they would serve their duty satisfactorily.

Silence accompanied the earth's hungry anticipation of its latest victim. Below, billowing waves beat at the base of the tall cliffs in primitive exultation. Trees stood as witnesses with bated breaths, while the forest's nocturnal dwellers sharpened their wits in disbelief of the senselessness about to occur.

Not the faintest of whispers could be heard as I stepped forward to yield myself to this voracious ground beneath my feet. At least, in the muddled throes of my unending sorrow, I had found a place where I was sure to end this meaningless existence without opposition.

That there were the blackened waters of the icy Chequamegon Lake beside this grave I had so carefully chosen marred not the purpose set within the aching depths of my now enlightened heart. It was all as I had planned.

I took a tentative step forward, edging closer to the fruition I sought from my woes. Without warning, loose rocks at the sharp edge of the cliff came undone in a hurried tumble, presaging my path to destruction as they crumbled to dust at the foot of the mightily carved elevation.

With a final sigh, I closed my eyes, finding true peace for the first time in all the years of my life. Fate had relentlessly pushed me to this end, but like the voracious earth seeking food for its plants, I welcomed my lot with a smile on my lips - soon, it would all be over.

Perhaps, it was not a good day to die. Regardless, the time had come.

**~*.*~**

'

**Next up: Edward**


	3. Edward

**Chapter Two**

**_Edward_**

In a single moment, everything changed.

Tragedy rose from our momentary celebration as all life ground to a sudden halt. Bella's last breath slowly passed from her the same instant her heart ceased. Her lips hung open, smeared with the blood she had been coughing up during the delivery, but now her eyes had rolled back into their sockets. Jacob sprinted to action immediately then, exhaling into her mouth and pressing down on her chest in measured time.

I, however, had not moved.

Frozen in a shocked trance, I felt the air around me grow heavy, and an unearthly silence settle over the room, slowly drowning out the flurry of activity from my acute senses until all became dark and still.

As though the entire world had heard of the horrific situation ensuing in the makeshift clinic in Carlisle's study, the stillness stretched for seeming eons in wait of the next occurrence.

A whispered chant suddenly broke through the haze. A voice was desperately murmuring in thought and words, "One, two, three, four."

Ringing faintly at first, its growing pitch finally became more recognizable as time passed. Jacob was frantic, desperately pursuing his task and working up sweat on his arms in the process. Still, he maintained his focus and worked over my _dying_ wife diligently.

_Bella, blood, death… _

My breath suddenly picked up at my distressing thoughts. Trying to break free of my meaningless immobility, I pulled in a deep breath to help me regain my sense of reality.

But reality remained elusive. Like a nightmare, my vision became clouded with vivid pictures of pain and death as I tried to fill my uncomprehending mind with the extent of our situation.

Soon, my desperation grew, and my helplessness multiplied as I tried to take in the profundity of the activity again. There was virtually no rationalization for the commotion, but somehow, I suddenly knew – death had come to announce its presence, to take its due on this darkest of nights, and to bring comeuppance upon me.

As I thought through my circumstance further, I realized how very well my explanation seemed to fit. My past misdeeds had finally caught up with me, and my whole life was crumbling to the ground. This was the beginning of the end of my life, a sign that I was about to go down in a pile of ash.

Nearly a hundred years as a vampire had not prepared me for this speedily approaching end, situation did not play close to my imagination of such a time at all. Why the devil had chosen such a moment to demand my life was quite perplexing. That he chose to take my love from me was exceedingly cruel as well.

Though, perhaps, it was his plan all along. Bringing such unbridled chaos into a previously carefully planned situation, he could guarantee my condemnation. If not, what other explanation could there be for this tribulation?

Ideally, there would have been little or no blood in our proceedings tonight. My father would have been here to watch over and provide direction, and my sister would have been holding my smiling wife's hands as the world revolved in the right direction.

Didn't every man deserve an upright world once in a century?

Of course, even with Carlisle's constant encouragement, I had not once assumed that vampires with histories as horrific as mine were exempt from the devil's grasp. Apart from the fact that we were all damned with no hope of salvation, some of us were more damned than others, and the day of my condemnation had arrived.

I nearly laughed aloud at my apt deduction. Through my existence, I had always known I did not deserve salvation. Yet, it was hard to ignore the evidence that fate had kept me around for this horrific end.

Exacting revenge at its most opportune time, it punished me severely for all my past indiscretions. Hitting hard just as I had begun to believe in a better life, fate had put me in a helpless situation – down on my knees before the devil.

I could hear Jacob's voice trying to draw me from my unprecedented daze now, from the sudden stillness – thoughtless, wordless, heartless quiet – that engulfed me totally. He was right; I had to wake up from my trance. Since, even though I could hear the faintest beating of an aided heart, I knew that it could cease its slow cadence in an instant. But I still could not move from my restraining prison.

Trapped in disbelief and fear, I struggled to discern Jacob's words. As though he had not even spoken them, they reached me in gabble. Confused, I simply stared at him blindly.

Sorrow had welded my mind to my irrational demeanor and cut off my hearing – again, blocking out all reality. Though seemingly impossible, I was even more convinced now that I was a vampire gone mad.

Unimpeded by my dazed behavior, Jacob's lips continued to move with urgency, seemingly pleading with me to abandon the ghosts of denial and perform a task required of me. Still in my nightmare though, I continued to stare in awe and shock at the scene before me, wishing a great flame would rise up from the bowels of the earth and consume me.

The fire never rose, and I could not wake from the debacle that had seized the room either. Though I had not slept or risen from a dream in nearly a century, even forgetting how, I shook imperceptibly to rouse my dulling brain from its own slumber, but there was no difference in my surroundings.

The rampant turmoil before me did not dissipate in a cloud of smoke as I expected. And instead of the hope of fantasy, reality reasserted its presence in the solidly warm body snuggling close to my cold chest, squirming slightly. My newborn daughter raised vivacious brown eyes to my face, looking up as if in understanding of the woes that plagued me.

Of course, she had no real concept of the gravity of calamity that had just befallen us, did she? I looked down at her and frowned. Her mind was branded with such sadness, and repeatedly played back her mother's last breath. Then she reached out her little hands to touch my face, and I knew what I had to do.

Over the last three weeks, I had failed to act as a supportive husband to my determined wife. When I insisted with every pore of my being that Bella had conceived an unimaginable beast and required an abortion, I had failed to be a man, to lay my convictions aside and pay all due attention to my wife's needs.

In my haste and fear, I had pushed Bella to run into Rosalie's arms for protection. If I had paid closer attention and acted as a truly caring husband, would she have resorted to recruiting my sister? Maybe, she would have trusted me to listen to her own conviction about the baby. Maybe she would not even have felt a need for a guardian to protect our child from me.

Where I had failed though, my sister had immediately risen to the task. Not once allowing me privacy with my wife, not even when all I wanted to do was hold her and comfort her weakening body, had been most frustrating. But Rosalie had vigilantly guarded, listened attentively, and obeyed Bella's every whim.

My family had watched me carefully from the fringes, sometimes trying to hide their thoughts that I might make another trip to Italy. They had tiptoed around us three, peeping at Bella with a mixture of sadness and fear, while they tried to hide their pity for me.

I truly had no need of their sympathy, though they were all correct in their assumption that if Bella died I would follow immediately.

Fearful as this truth was even to Carlisle's inherent calm, my family was well aware that I would not be able to live if my wife passed. Nevertheless, they all held to their resolve despite this consequence, unflinching from the positions they had each taken.

My brothers chose to stay away from me entirely. Even Emmett had soon found it wise to back away to a safe distance, only interfering where Rosalie seemed threatened. However, his sad eyes, tightly drawn lips and hunched shoulders betrayed every bit of his thoughts. Though staunchly supportive of Rosalie's decisions and actions, he felt almost as depressed as I at the possibility that I could lose my mate.

Even more distressed was Alice, constantly worrying in silence about her inability to predict an outcome for mother or "monster." Feeling guilty that she had failed me, she apologized profusely in her thoughts while questioning the efficacy of her talent.

And, of course, Rosalie never wavered from her stance as a soldier on duty, or her excitement about the coming child.

All through each member's concern, though, no one had once considered my proposition to end the ordeal. No matter how grave the threat to Bella's life and consequently my own, my family had been unanimous in the decision to keep the killer growing in her womb. Finally, I began to think that we would not be entirely missed if that was, indeed, our end.

My father's quiet prayers belied those thoughts explicitly. Every night he knelt on the hard wood of his study floor, his antiquated Bible set carefully before him and his eyes shut tightly in utter concentration. Every one of his prayers for God's divine touch in _our_ difficulty thoroughly humbled me.

The first few times I had heard him, his words weighed on me greatly. Even though he prayed for the entire family and my preservation, it astonished me that he so passionately prayed life for both mother and child.

Now those same words for divine intervention and life for Bella rang through the back of my mind like an old hymn. Its refrain for life had given me hope from the first day, after our emergency meeting had come to an abrupt end without resolution.

I had been foolish from the very beginning, thinking it possible to avert this crisis with a deliberate abortion. With hope to be understood, and her life considered more important than embarking on the risk she had chosen to take, I had met my father first, to implore his wise counsel on the matter.

Carlisle's pitiful glance, quickly turning away when I caught his eye, had been like a knife driven through my breaking heart. His thoughts yearned for my understanding, imploring a second look at the situation, but I had stared back, wide eyed in shock at his denial. His eyes narrowed then, his lips thinned and a single wrinkle across his forehead clearly conveyed his thoughts.

"Carlisle," I pleaded that night, fully intent on my father's face for a hope I could not find in the situation. He had firmed his jaw even more, gripping Esme's hand tightly as he turned a tight smile towards me. "If it were…" I stammered. "If it were Esme, would you let her die?" I had finally got the question out.

It was an unfair question to ask my father. Of all my most ungrateful behaviors, this was by far, the worst I had ever gotten. He had not impregnated his human wife with a half vampire, slowly sucking the life out of her.

Knowing him, he would have been more careful, would have considered her request more completely and would not have fallen prey to her charm as I had. But, I was desperate, and the only man capable of assisting me had forsaken me.

My mother looked on in horror at my words, and then her own thoughts turned pitiful as well. She stretched a hand towards my face, whispering a reassurance to me that I did not feel, "She can make it through."

"Not if she still has that… that thing inside her, she won't!" I shot back, lifting from my seat to look towards the top of the staircase once again. Bella had been asleep most of the night, only waking a few minutes to readjust her position on the bed when her slightly distended belly seemed to cause her pain. Carlisle's examination showed that she was in good health for the moment, but losing strength with her inability to sustain herself and the... thing.

It was through no other's fault but mine, though, that this discussion was even necessary. I had hung the noose around my own neck that now so eagerly suffocated me. Tightening with every sigh and pain-filled look that crossed my human wife's face, it wound several yards around my ageless throat, drawing my very reason for being away from me.

Thus, it became easier to pray along with Carlisle when he thought of his plea to God. Eventually, I found myself agreeing with all his requests save the one that surely seemed questionable – the life of the fetus.

Likewise in my mother's prayers, though entirely different from her husband's, pleas for both lives were fervently said. Rarely ever the most religious of us, her faint whispers to the heavens for a response to her proposed solution tore through me. Her focus on survival of both the mother and child had greatly shocked me. In her mind, Bella carried a child and not a monster.

_How can a monster not beget a monster?_ That had been my driving thought. Armed with knowledge of the horror the immortal babies of the past had brought, it was fair to assume that a child born to any of us would inherit such bloodlust. Even more evident had been the monster's ravenous appetite in these final few days as my wife sucked human blood through a straw.

How was I to hope for more? Was it not the price to pay for my rebellious past? Though, I had not anticipated the atonement of my sins would be this great or laden with such sorrow.

Like most of my siblings, I had begun to believe Carlisle's assurances. His kind touches of understanding for our mistakes, smiles that warmed the frozen inhumanity in our beings, encapsulated the true reason we stayed close together and dared to call one another family.

Gradually, learning to live in the hope of a reformation that more emulated my father's disposition, I had nearly forgotten. However, my sins were numerous and unpardonable, it seemed.

After my heart had begun to sink from guilt over the humans I had killed, I had gone home from my insurgence, wishing for tears to show my father the extent of my remorse. It had taken great will power to calmly nod to his words while I nursed my depression and feelings of hopelessness.

Looking me directly in my red blood eyes, unflinchingly and holding on firmly to his strongest belief that everything would work out even for a culpable vampire like me, Carlisle sought to allay my doubts the best way he knew how.

"God forgives us all our sins, Son," he had spoken quietly, standing next to me on the edge of the cliff that winter morning. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, even for one such as me, and for a moment I wondered if I had read his mind instead.

More convincing though, were the flagrant mixture of happiness, pride, pity, love and faith hitting me with the force of a thousand tons that were definitely thoughts from his mind. When he eventually turned to look away from me, I quickly applauded myself for how admirably I had managed such a feat and not laughed outright at my father's unchanged values.

I had sighed in contentment, though, at coming back home and set off slowly through the large clearing towards my adopted mother. Truthfully, I admired the patriarch doctor still standing on the top of the mountain. After all, he had lived with his ideas for nearly three hundred years. Who could fault his entrenched notions?

Thus, it was the peace he had found, away from all the guilt I felt from the consciences and thoughts of the men I killed, that lit the way back home. On the large clearing below, the slight figure, smiling up as I approached completed Carlisle's happiness.

There was no mistaking his adoration for the young woman rolling large snowballs into place to make a snow sculpture of the image of the man of her dreams – well, her reality now. His stance, though far off in the distance, spoke volumes of his satisfaction.

Perhaps, like he said, "Of course, God will give you another chance," all was not lost for me, after all. With Bella's love, I had begun to believe in that second opportunity.

Though I had thought, perhaps, my indiscretions would be forgiven, memories from my days as a vigilante plagued me at every turn. Prime among them, even today, was the sight of an old church.

Weeping women reluctantly filed into the crumbling structure of rotting wood and falling ceiling beams to mourn the deceased. A husband and father of four lay in one casket, and his daughter in the other. As an obsessive gambler and drunk, the father had taken to beating to death those he owed to avoid his debts. However, his innocent, oblivious daughter had fainted at the news of her father's death and not regained her consciousness.

It had pierced my heart to see such misery, assailing me with guilt and confusion, questioning my purpose if I could not adhere to a simple mission to keep the righteous alive.

I had failed.

In all things, I failed. Sometimes, so woeful were my mistakes, drawing those I loved into the havoc and even taking lives. But Bella did not deserve to die. Not for my failures, and not after her valiant weeks of waiting, planning and preparing every detail.

My wife, though still no more than a child, had determination and a kind heart rivaled only by my father. For as many times as she could, she had shown her goodness, her steadfast loyalty, and her devotion. And if there was a God above, as Carlisle claimed, he would let Bella live – even if she did so as a vampire.

Slowly, but purposefully, I drew myself from the confusion and desperation, trying to take in the grave setting once more. A thread of thought invaded my mind immediately. Jacob was frantic, desperately trying to revive a dying heart.

With a new determination, I firmed my jaw and looked around to reacquaint myself with the room. Syringes were strewn all over the floor where they had landed after their use, and surgical equipment rattled in their silvery container as Jacob continued to count and forcefully press breath into my wife's still body.

For all my years, I had never been quite as grateful as I was that Jacob was here with me today. Bella needed him to be her one faithful friend. As everyone already knew I had no such hopes.

Take the baby?" I choked, stretching to hand little Renesmee to Jacob. He seemed oblivious to my request, so I tried again, "Take the baby," this time with more command.

Jacob murmured an inappropriate reply, as I stretched out to hand my newborn child to him. I swallowed my looming rage, and quickly searched for an alternative. However, just as quickly, Rosalie stepped in and took the child, leaving me to my task.

My focus could not be swayed; I was intent on the charge at hand, willing the still form lying before me to breathe.

"One, two, three, four," I chanted, systematically pressing down on her rigid chest. There was blood slowly drying in the corner of her mouth, turning darker as if she was dying.

Even Jacob was well aware of the fact that if she did die I would follow in her wake. He had my assurance that I would yield myself to him in the event that the unthinkable happened.

It was just as well he had agreed, as for vampires there seldom existed the quick and manageable solutions that so effectively brought mortals their relief. Though my predicament seemed a sure enough way to finish off any man – immortality be forsaken. I was watching the only woman I had ever loved in my overextended life seemingly pass on.

Unlike Jacob though, I was not about to give up. _ One, two, three four. Please Bella, breathe._ Yet, nothing, not the tiniest sound, marred the finality of the last glug of Bella's heart ringing in my head. In my gray-fringed vision, life stood suspended in mocking horror above the still white form of my deceased wife.

Moments passed as I persisted, trying to maintain the small connection between life and death. Odd that as I contemplated my own demise, I had seen no replay flash by of the many decades I had passed on this cursed earth. As it always was, it seemed the usual notion did not apply to me. In its stead, a dark cloud hung over the small study and drowned out the world.

Then I broke down in a crumbled heap and gave in to the impulse, crying out, "Please, God! Save Bella. If You will listen to a condemned man, please hear my petition! My, wife… she can't survive unless you intercede. I know I have no importance, but she must live."

I looked up in sheer desperation, pleading in my torment. My lips quivered in utter sorrow, opening and closing wordlessly. The weight of this situation had finally sunk in fully, leaving me with no option but crying to God for help.

I whispered my frantic prayer, tearlessly sobbing on every word. There was little I could do; I knew that. Yet I had no intention of letting death claim the best of my mostly fruitless existence, though its insistence broke through every un-beating pulse in my dying wife's chest.

Suddenly, the moment changed again.

Where there had been the tiniest spark of hope, death seized this moment to slay any more assurance. A cloud of gloom settled over the room, bringing a haze of red before my eyes as my wife's body jerked in violent spasms and suddenly sagged into an unconscious heap.

"Please Bella, no… please," I whispered, thinking through the task at hand even as I murmured my plea. _Focus on maintaining the right pressure, move your hands steadily, keep the pressure even – make no mistakes._

"Please Bella," I whispered again, never moving from my intent assessment of her pale face. "Please, God," I whispered brokenly again, imploring once more for Bella's life.

Her eyes were sunken, lolling back into the deep cavities of their sockets. A trickle of darkening blood stained the sides of her lips.

_Just focus, make her heartbeat! All I need is a single unaided breath. That is all I needed from God._ That my singular request be granted after all 90 years of my vampire existence. That He prove Himself to me in my greatest time of pain and desperation.

"Please, God!"

I held my breath and waited. For as many moments as seeming centuries, I stood still as a sculpture as the end threatened to cloak us in its foreboding darkness.

Finally, another moment of change.

A new light began to shine through the dark haze overshadowing my heart, as though God had heard my desperate petition. A small breath of relief escaped my stunned lips when a faint tug beat through her afflicted chest, a miracle steadily growing from a faint whisper to a more perceptible beat.

It drummed in my ears, bringing joy and a cautious smile to my lips as I sat back, still slightly wary of this new phenomenon. As the first sound of breathing escaped her parted lips, I felt relief take me and I settled beside her reformation bed to wait through the days and nights, to calm her as the fires of transformation took over.

Now, in this moment though, I simply raised her limp hand to my lips for a kiss, whispering, "Thank you," to my Bella, but even more to God for His miracle of a changing fate, a changing life, and a changing heart.

* * *

**Up Next: Carlisle**


	4. Carlisle

**Chapter Three**

**Carlisle**

Frustration coursed a searing path down my spine as I angrily kicked at the remains of the boulder that had once seemed so sturdy and capable of aiding my planned demise. I had meant to break my back on it from my dive down the mountain summit. Now, I stared in open-mouthed amazement and confusion as the last of it crumbled to dust beneath my spontaneous and violent action.

In stunned stupor, I watched as debris from the once solid granite rock traced a quick path over the remaining slope. It raced from the strip of flat land I stood on into the stream slicing through the forest where I had hidden since the day I roused from the hellish experience of my conversion.

Splash after splash, the flowing water rippled out from the points where the surface had been pierced by the broken rocks. The shimmering surface of the water reflected faded darts of dull orange from the remnants of the day's sunshine, its perfect flow temporarily interrupted by the intruding stones. Yet it quickly closed over the new additions, accepting them into its devouring soft bed.

Breaking out of my shocked abstraction, I looked down at my uncovered arm to examine my skin's shimmering surface, desperately hoping for a change in its look to suggest I had made a transition without immediate knowledge.

Though I had done this many times without positive results, I was still unbelieving of my failure. Alas! I had no need to linger in my inspection. Quickly glancing down at my arm, I silently cursed the dulling glow that confirmed I was still a vampire. I forcefully swallowed back my disappointment, a lingering human response that only served to rouse fiery flames torching down my throat, mocking my vain and sudden hope of respite from it all.

Regretfully however, the path of accepting my circumstances seemed truer than my vain attempts to kill myself. Looking down at the place of my failure, where once stood a very large boulder, and back at the untroubled stream flowing easily over its remaining shreds, my heart burned with jealousy about how simple destruction was for some. It ached desperately, and my spirit wept bitterly for what I had become. While the pieces of rock had gone smoothly into oblivion, I remained as I was.

I raised my head to the skies at the unfairness of my circumstances, wishing for tears to soothe my distress or lightning to free me from this cruel reality, if even it had that power. As I expected though, the heavens stayed impervious and silent to my woes. As they had done the many times I had beseeched them for answers for my misfortunes, even their form remained unbent by my anxiety.

Recalling my earlier experience, I chose not to linger on desperate pleadings any longer. It had been a great effort to lift up my eyes and beg God to answer me, as I had been uncertain if I was still welcome in the Creator's presence. However, finding my voice past the pain in my throat, I had raised up a loud cry and fallen to my knees, begging, "Why do You curse me?"

When it had become obvious I was not to get any answers, I had angrily bellowed my resentment for my end up to the unyielding skies. "You refuse to kill me, and instead leave me an abomination to the earth and to Your creation—unable to please You!" I had accused. "Have I not served You as I should? Why then do You leave me to suffer? Why do You stay silent to my pleading—to my woes?"

Sobs rack through my stone body when my charges yielded naught. And then I had turned away and sworn to quietly find my own relief from my monstrosity. So, despite another failed attempt, I merely raised my head to further inspect the place of my intended suicide for anything else vaguely lethal that could aid my quest quickly.

Sighing in resignation and despondence at the bereft spread of land before me, I acquiesced to the absolute but unwelcome truth of my new being; I could not, on my own, end the life of the beast I had become. The thought that I was to bear this accursed life for eternity saddened me greatly. How long could I endure the flames of fire that licked up my throat with growing intensity until they took control of me?

My sorrow was deep. When I turned to look regretfully back at the elevated height from which I had thrown myself dozens of times in the past day, my sadness heightened. Reluctantly acknowledging it did not hold the means to my death, I slowly walked away from it. Regardless of my eager attempts from its peak, I had acquired neither bruise nor dent on my rocky skin to attest to my long exertion.

All of my varied efforts could only be perceived in the mud stains splotched over the yellowish cotton of my old clothes. I bore no other evidence of my long habitation under the river where I had hoped to drown the day before. And there were, likewise, no signs to remember my efforts to burn. Wearied in my soul and without hope, I lurched into a trot, retracing the path that forged deep into the forest and to the cave I had discovered the day before.

It was improbable that the spacious groove in the side of the tall cliffs bordering the ocean held a solution to my predicament, but it most certainly held a measure of relief. Hence, I hastened my journey, avoiding human paths as much as possible in my meandering, and arriving at its veiled mouth after only a few minutes. Overlooking the sea that led across to the fabled new world, it was the perfect spot from which to await whatever fate was destined me—be it death or worse, murder.

When I reached the cave at last, I crept through the small fissure at its mouth into the darkness engulfing the scant space. Through its imperceptible entrance, wholly bordered by an overgrowth of sharp thorn bushes and scant flowers holding on in the fading spring light, I stared out into the approaching darkness. My strength was rapidly declining and with it a mounting desperation for sustenance.

Soon, all the little cave would be able to provide would be a perfect hiding place from the world and nothing else. By my fate, I was deigned to live in eternal misery, losing my reason to a burning in my body worse than the very fires of Hades or meant to become a cold-blooded murderer, killing innocent humans for nourishment.

I shook violently at the sudden vision, fearing that there should ever be a day such as those contained by the horrific scene of carnage my mind conjured. While I was aware my impending doom determinedly drew nearer, I resisted the seeming premonitions with sheer force of will.

That did not aid to dispel the fear gripping my heart in its pure, unbridled form, though. Thus, forth came the taunting visions of a desperately irrepressible vampire. Wild and witless, he killed humans boundlessly in vain satisfaction of his depraved longing.

I twisted and turned away from the condemning thoughts, but the minutes ticked on without relief. The unreal footsteps from my imaginings only grew louder, it seemed. Approaching with a cacophonous pounding heartbeat, my ghostly nemesis continually pressed the benefits of such sustenance into my mind.

I willed the phantasm leave me be, only to have it joined by a wafting scent more delicious and satisfying than any other I could remember. The nectar of life assailed me, bending my resolve further than before, making me momentarily wish that it could all become real.

A keening cry from an owl broke me from my bewildered haze, bringing reason and restoring my fragile will. With these, I dredged up the last of my reserved vigor against my intangible foes, and fought furiously to restrain the alluring voices whispering to me—promising me release through a fragile shell of skin and sinew.

_It will be your salvation, yes it will, _the voices chanted. Yet I knew without doubt that to succumb would be woe and further my ruin.

"No, that cannot be my end," I whispered to the darkness, fervently praying my words would be true. It was pain to speak, but I sought to break free from the delusions. "That cannot be my end," I whispered again.

A tumble of rocks behind me distracted me from my tedious recitation. When I turned to see, I noted how far I had burrowed into the cave. Yet, I writhed into the corner more, yearning for a deeper hiding place as menace and dread swallowed the poignant air surrounding me.

Not yet a half hour since I climbed into the cave, the darkness within had come to life, dancing in glee at my torture. I contemplated abandoning the cave, yet noted dejectedly that I had no other hiding place. In a desperate bid to retain my fragile grasp on my convictions, I stayed burrowed in the cave as images of humans engaging in life's daily activities distorted into bodies without essence, hollowed and lifeless, laying beside a rejoicing vampire.

Disdain and thirst clogged my throat, and I shut my eyes tightly to ward off my despairing thoughts and pain. Wrapping my arms around my body, I huddled even further away from the terror invading the hollow grotto, but my affliction wore on. Quietly, I moaned my loss of ability to sleep, my humanity, and most of all, my connection with God. Had I still such a connection, I was certain He would not have forsaken me and denied me death and freedom from this condition.

Again, I thought how logical it seems that death would be the means to regaining all I had lost. Not only would I be free from my physical torments, I would also be rid of my terrifying depravity.

I glanced around once more, wondering if I had overlooked a means to my demise. All around me were bare walls. And for a moment, I thought about pushing strong palms against the back of the cave. With enough pressure, perhaps I could be buried beneath the mountain. If only I dislodged enough of its foundations, could that tumbling mountain bring me my reprieve? Except, I knew the truth as clearly as day, that it would be as futile an attempt as all the others I had tried. There was simply no escaping this curse I had become.

With a ragged sigh I settled back in my corner. Even if I was indeed cursed, I swore never to forget who I am.

It had not quite been a year now since I begged my father for his blessings to join the town's healers. Encouraged by my mother's smile in her fading portrait, I had found myself helping at the town's medical center every Tuesday after my studies at the local college. My passion for assisting in mending sore and worn bodies had increased then, until I knew without doubt it was my mission.

My aspiration to nurse others back to health had remained unabated through my transformation and it now strengthened my resolve to hold on to my last shred of humanity and compassion for others. I had to avoid committing a sin more terrible than any I could imagine and this knowledge helped me to hold on to my sanity.

Ignoring the raging desire I felt was no easy feat, though. My whole body begged for nourishment and threatened to consume me if I did not succumb to the call of blood—to murder.

Even besides my intense loathing for such an end to any being, I was also appalled by the callousness of a thinking reasoning creature of any kind taking another man's life. Further convinced of myself, I vowed not to fall to this temptation!

With renewed vehemence, I stood and stamped my feet into the ground. The large rocks forming the cave's solid floor crushed to dust beneath me. Still, I dug my heels forcefully into the crumbling stone surface as if forging yet another path to Hades.

Ankle deep in the gaps I had created, I waited as night cloaked the earth and brought with it the changes that had once been most fascinating to me. After my transformation however, it seemed the darkness had lost the mysteries it held before.

As a human, nothing had ignited my imagination more than night's secrets and mysteries, waiting for discovery by daylight – if only daylight was quick enough to catch them. Through my new pair of eyes from my place in the cave, however, I saw only an unchanging landscape, bereft and lonely, and most assuredly, without mystery. For, I could see as clearly as if there had been no change in the day.

Slowly squatting in the corner to enable a broader view, I perused the night intently, keeping my senses scanning miles around for any sign of danger; any approaching people.

Such was this curse—even if not yet to humanity, it was to me—to be turned into a creature with keen senses that neither withered nor waned. Even in my quiet surroundings I had no peace of mind. My sense of smell reached out for miles, as did my hearing, picking up sounds of ruffling feathers and little creatures laying down to sleep.

As I could do little to control its shrewd accuracy, I stayed alert, and praying desperately that my eager watchfulness would not become my undoing. My hands clenched tightly at my sides, careful not to touch my burning throat, lest by mistake I flee down to the small town in the valley and fall to my doom more rapidly. Nevertheless, my eyes watched most intently as darkness began to slide across the sun-beaten sky—and they watched zealously.

There was not much to see. Even in the darkness, the bereft land stretched for miles, as did the sea. Yet, void as all the world seemed, my eyes drew in every slight wrinkle in the fabric of the night, and my ears paid heed to the minutest sound in a desperation of both wanting and dreading.

If this was to be my end, then had fate willed it to be so from my beginning? Had it deemed it befitting that my birth be the cause to end my gentle mother's life? Perhaps that had been the evil portent that had meticulously led me through the very paths that brought me into this cave today. If from the beginning, my poor mother had been able to withstand death's icy grip and continued to live, would I be here at this time?

It was also irony that I should end up a creature so vile, neither living nor dead, and seemingly indestructible—to become one of the very beings toward which my father bore a vehemence so extreme it resulted in the loss of many innocent lives was perhaps laughable. Although, it seemed, was much more than a mere coincidence, as well.

It was also, without doubt, a punishment. One I had to bear for my inability to dissuade my father from his ruthless public burnings. I had always known it was my responsibility to save the lives that he had publicly declared inhuman, evil and deserving to be burned at the stake, but I had merely stood aside and done nothing, even though my conscience had railed against it all.

But, how could the very condition he abhorred assail me – the son of a preacher man?

Had God forsaken me so much for my disobedience, that I should suffer this torment for eternity?

Stakes and crosses had not worked to rid me of this curse. Nothing, it seemed, could end my life. In anguish, I fell forward to the cave floor, murmuring my apologies for all my mistakes into the rocky ground. Fading memories of my many sins crawled over my frozen heart dredging back my old remorse got them at the same time as cruelly repeating those moments I most lamented in vivid clarity behind my shut eyelids,

It must have been the lustful lures that took hold of me when I failed to turn away from the sight of the mayor's young daughter swimming unclothed in the warm tributary of the Thames. She had thought herself well concealed behind the tall bushes at the river bank, stepping into the water with her long wavy hair, the color of the sun, cascading like a cloak behind her. My first glance at her had been fleeting, but my failure to curb the raging imaginations my adolescent body craved had been my sin.

Though there also was that day, the day I tiptoed carefully into my father's room to steal a shilling for the new book the town's crier had so enticingly pointed out at the market. Knowing how curious about life I was, he had spoken about its signed accounts of a newly discovered world west of ours. He had attested to hours of reading great adventures of hunters who sought out the land's abundant resources, and I had been much too captivated by said wonders to desist from acquiring a copy.

Spellbound and thoughtless of the consequences of my actions, I had ignored my pounding heart while I clandestinely pilfered the exact amount required for the book out of my father's pouch and hastily made for the stall where it remained on sale. Gordon had meekly reminded me of my wrong that day, but I had set my eyes fixedly on the promise of wealth and freedom the book contained and had pushed away the pangs of guilt I felt.

While I had still been engrossed in the living pages of adventure, strife, and war between traders and aborigine, my father had asked me my knowledge of his dwindled reserves. Conceiving no way to explain my action, I had lied as persuasively as I could about having no such knowledge. Yet, inside, my conviction had grown louder, racing as though with hooves to trample my deceitful heart.

A new and different flame blazed deep in my chest at the extent of my disobedience, remembering Gordon's calm voice of reason when I had first proposed a nightly expedition to find the real creatures that my father over-enthusiastically pursued.

"How will this help, Carlisle? And how will we be able to tell who a real vampire is?" his gentle voice had conveyed his concern, his apprehension showing in his intent gaze. "Are these creatures not extremely dangerous?"

"Perhaps, Gordon, but will we sit by and watch my father burn more innocents? Do not worry my friend, we'll take a couple of my father's stakes and carry the large crucifix beside my mother's portrait. Father scarcely goes through that wing of our home anymore," I had replied.

He had nodded his understanding slowly, suddenly looking up with absolute trusting, "I will go with you, Carlisle, but we cannot let mother know. She'll be beside herself with worry and reveal our plans to your father before we have stepped a foot out onto the street."

In that jesting, we had set our plans out and sought help from other friends. Perhaps if I had heeded Gordon's worry, he would be home with his widowed mother who would not have had her only child snatched from her so cruelly.

Perchance, he could have borne many sons as he had hoped to and cherished the large family we had both dreamed of being blessed with. Having each lost a parent, we had shared our passionate hopes of building large families with good wives and many children with whom to share our lives.

And now, neither of us could achieve our dreams. I was cursed to live in eternal damnation, and he, poor Gordon, had lost his life, sprawled lifeless on the wet cobblestones in the dark of a deserted London alleyway.

How could our stakes have failed us so? How could the wooden crucifix we carried not have helped us at all? How had my father reacted when he'd been given the news that I had disappeared, or that they had found barely recognizable bodies in the pathway?

My mistakes were unforgivable indeed. And now, I had to pay the price.

Suddenly, as though a final verdict had been delivered on my soul, a loud racket of running hooves rose from the east of the cave. Standing in alertness, I shook my head to dislodge any phantoms. Believing I could have fainted in my agony, the action was meant to rouse me if it was a dream, but I knew I could not dream. I kept my eyes wide, watching for an apparition in this realm of illusion, and fighting to be free from its impending nightmare.

So, as the sound of the hooves grew stronger, and my imagination ran wilder, I cautiously stepped out of my hiding place to see for myself what had caused the cave to tremble. It could be the chariots of hell sent to take my soul. Or perhaps other vampires had been sent to seek me out and grant me my desire to die. After all, they could better suggest ways to commit suicide, could they not?

Or, it was the unending suffocation of my senses, tempered with fear, which enslaved me to my own degeneration. I was trapped in this abyss with my lungs pressed down by the constant hunger clutching at the very core of my carnality. I had no need for breath, but I was breathless with renewed apprehension. At that moment, I knew there was no escaping my future—whatever it turned out to be.

Even though night and day meant nothing to my vision, I craned my neck upward for a better view. The ground shook beneath me, the heavens seemed to roar and I could see clearly in the pitch black night. Still, I saw nothing. I prayed desperately, uttering the faint indiscernible whispers within my barren chest through my burning throat. They escaped scratchily, almost inaudibly.

My words rang as lyrics to an ancient ode. Something of a myth, it seemed, though myth could not liberate me from the terror I felt. Again I thought, it could only be the loud opening of the gates of Hades rapidly drawing close to devour me.

In a final act of surrender, I knelt on the powdery ground, heedless to the demons that crawled beneath my stony flesh. Trembling in supplication, I pleaded to be heard even if for the last time, before the raging fires engulfed me.

Somewhere beneath my confusion, I heard a voice with stark clarity whisper the word for my salvation. A single and solemn call for divine intervention poured into my yearning heart as I called out with all the intensity I could muster through my tremulous lips, "Lord!"

As though a sudden weight had been lifted from my heart, my words were smooth and clear.

"Lord, hear my petition! I find myself in the bowels of the earth, and I beg of You to reach down and rescue me. The weight of my sins has buried me below this ground, and now I am nothing before You. But You remain the Lord of host, my shield and my deliverer. Take this yoke from me, I beseech You! And deliver me not into the hands of the enemy. Instead, take my soul and make me a lowly servant in Your castle. But please, have mercy Lord, save my soul from damnation!"

Almost immediately, I felt a prickling at my neck. I looked up quickly to see a pair of eyes trained on me, wide with fright. Its gold flecked gaze pointedly stared from the tops of the cliffs where it stood rigidly; ready to take flight at the first inkling of danger to its own life.

For a moment, I wondered why it stood stock still in fear, as if caught in a trap. Then, as I rose slowly from the ground, still holding its gaze, I began to comprehend its mission. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I paid rapt heed, nonetheless, to its loud racing heartbeat.

Blood!

This was not quite what I expected, I admitted readily. But as there was no error in the wet thudding sound that emanated from the animal's chest, I agreed it was the best solution to my woes.

The young deer's blood did not smell quite as enticing as the human scents that had driven me from the city to seek refuge in the forest, but it did promise to soothe the ache in my throat. Even if only to an extent, it would ensure I did not commit a most repugnant sin.

Strength surged through me, moving me forward before my mind understood the intended situation. The deer leaped back at my sudden attack, fleeing as fast as it could into the darkened forest. I was undeterred by its flight, quickly crossing the sand and rock along the beach in three long strides.

It took equal time and effort to scale over the cliff and unto the grassy plateau atop it. Then I set to running, deftly avoiding obstacles in my way, leaping and swinging wherever it seemed best as I traced the deer's scent. All thoughts of burning chariots from the gates of hell had dissipated from my mind. I focused on one thing and only that—blood!

Within a few heartbeats, I came upon the herd of deer caught in a small clearing bordered by large trees, clearly unaware of my presence or intention. Quickly, I mapped out my strategy, aiming for the bucks and fully grown does.

Before they could sense any danger and take flight, I had landed my first buck, catching it and holding its neck down easily. With a quick word of thanks to God, and an amazed thought that just maybe He was indeed still with me, I sank my sharp teeth into the animal's neck.

**

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Up Next: Jasper

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